


Possibly, Maybe

by enid_salt



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: M/M, Meet Cute AU, coffee shop AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-12
Updated: 2016-09-12
Packaged: 2018-08-14 15:10:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,115
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8018815
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/enid_salt/pseuds/enid_salt
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bucky is 100% sure an actual angel just walked into his place of work. Sam Wilson has no idea what's he getting by entering the store. The one where Steve is a mooch and Natasha needs either a raise or more tips. (Meet Cute AU gold tier classic coffee shop AU - as if you can't tell by the title)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Possibly, Maybe

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by [this piece of art by pidgeyons](http://pidgeyons.tumblr.com/post/146607940863/a-colouring-practice-that-kind-of-went-out-of). Written over way too long a period without as much editing as there should have been. Always open to grammar/spelling corrections.

The Ol’ Beanery was not a rip-off of Starbucks.

Its logo was based on an abstract design by a friend of the founder who was inspired by aquatic plant life, the green aprons were cheapest, and the the sizes were purposefully named after the ounces each cup contained. Not a rip-off.

But every week, some smartass walked in and said “Someone really likes Starbucks, huh?”

Bucky Barnes was prepared for it every time. Big smile, hearty laugh, deflect to unique choices on the menu. He was a sales person, after all, and knew how to knead the average customer’s ego to get them cracking open their wallet. Most people fell into one of two categories, flatter or flirt. Flattery made people who weren’t attracted to him feel better about giving him their money and flirting . . . well, it came natural to Bucky and it got him good tips. Sue him.

The shop has its regulars and a steady enough flow of new people to keep more than a bit afloat. Establishing a routine and falling into a rut is kind of par for the course, not Bucky’s fault.

But the planets still align and the realm of possibility fluxes long enough to have the door open on a Tuesday morning with Bucky’s head still bowed toward the cash drawer.

“Welcome to the Ol’ Beanery, how can I help you?”

“Shit, I thought this was a low-key Starbucks.”

Bucky had the Grin™ in place when he looked up but it slowly melted back off as he saw the vision before him.

This guy was gorgeous. He had the ease of motion that comes from well resting that signaled he enjoyed coffee equally as much or more than needing it to survive. His posture wasn’t slouched or stunted but fluidly upright like it was set by nature itself. He was taller, not too tall, leanly built, and had his face tilted toward the menu board above. The light from outside has shifted just enough to frame this stranger in the hazy halo of the angels.

Dark skinned, closely cropped hair and trimmed beard, Bucky was mesmerized. He could feel the pace of his heartbeat change, sending the blood rushing to the surfaces of his cheeks and the tips of his ears and wondered if there could literally be hearts in his eyes right now.

“Hi. Can I get uh,” as the man trailed off, Bucky counted to five before mustering up a more professional approach.

“Actually,” he cut his gaze downward meeting Bucky’s eyes, “what do you recommend?”

Bucky, completely caught off guard by the change of tactics, stumbled through suggesting, “Me.”

The guy tilted his head so slightly, but the edge of his mouth tilted up just enough to signal amusement.

Bucky let his brain finally catch up and get it together when he faked a cough, “I mean, me? My favorite’s the half-frappe with a splish-splash of raspberry sauce. Sixteen ounce, of course.”

The customer blinked before asking, “What the hell is a half-frappe?”

Bucky dove way, way back into his two-week training for the recitation he memorised out of the handbook. 

“A Frappé is actually Greek in origin with semi-standard recipe and the usual coffee house frappuccino is only vaguely related so our frappe are half one and half the other to make it our own, hence half-frappe.”

The guy nodded, satisfied, before following up, “And a splish-splash?” 

Bucky gave a small shrug, “It wasn’t really ever made official but with the slight oceanic theme, splash is kind of code for one squirt of syrup and splish-splash is two.”

“Cute,” Bucky swooned until he reminded himself the customer was referring to the product, “so how about a half-frappe with a splash of hazelnut? Did that sound right?”

Bucky nodded, “Yup, I can do that.”

With his back turned to make the drink Bucky berated himself by mouthing ‘Fuck’ over and over. When he swiveled back around, Steve Rogers had walked in and was talking to the heavenly creature like it was nothing. 

Steve had always had a iron tight grip on the title of Bucky’s best friend but right now all Bucky could think was “Betrayal!”

He must have let his displeasure out with a mild squeak because the pair turned back to Bucky with the customers coffee still gripped tight in his hand.

“Uh,” Bucky felt the thump thump of his heart in his chest, “I didn't get a name for the order?”

The stranger chuckled, “Ah, yeah, I'm sorry. Sam. Sam Wilson.” 

“Sam Wilson,” Bucky repeated, testing out combinations of Wilson and Barnes in his head.

Sam pulled out his wallet, “So what's the number?”

Bucky nearly dropped the cup, “What?” 

“What do I owe you?”

Bucky bit down his phone number and set the order down on the counter to ring it up on the cash register. Sam handed him a bill and Bucky made change without looking up. He was convinced if he met Sam's wonderful eyes again, he'd do something ridiculous. 

Sam, perfect human he is, puts his change straight in the tip jar.

“Bye, Bucky. See ya later, Steve.”

Steve, who had barely contained his laughter through his witnessing of this encounter, waved at Sam.

Bucky stared until his eyes hurt following Sam's retreating form in the bright sunlight.

The squint from overexposure turned into a glare as he swiveled back toward his best friend overcome with laughter.

“Et tu, Brutus?!”

Steve rolled his eyes, “If it weren’t so unusual to see you be the one falling all over yourself in front of someone, I wouldn’t be cracking up so much.”

“That’s not what I meant,” Bucky winced, “was I that obvious?”

Steve shrugged his shoulders, “I don’t know, maybe it’s the knowing you forever thing where I could see you planning out your life with him in your head.”

Bucky threw himself on the counter, “I am so fucked.”

Steve just patted his head and whispered low, “Get me my cappuccino, you lovesick bastard.”

Bucky made the coffee alright, but with full, lengthy, gratuitous commentary on Sam Wilson: Bucky’s star-crossed lover. 

Steve suppressed his giggles long enough to receive his cup before busting a gut in Bucky’s face.

“It’s not funny. He is The Best, caps included, and I’m never gonna see him again. I barely got his name much less his number!”

Steve straightened and put his usual tip in the jar, “I don’t know about that.”

Bucky narrowed his eyes, check Steve over for all the usual tells of bad lying that he was known for, “What do you know, Rogers?”

Steve backed up, sipping his coffee, “More than you, nag.”

Bucky shook his fist as Steve exited, “Mule!”

 

With no hope in sight, Bucky pushed the occurence in to his long term memory and forced himself to go about his day as if nothing happened.

-

The next morning was worse. Bucky opened up and couldn’t stop himself for jumping with every open of the door, wishing beyond all infinity that Sam would walk in again.

He didn’t.

-

He instead came jogging in, early morning, while in tow of Steve Rogers.

If the soft intellectual look was a great style on Sam, the casual athlete look of basketball shorts and a baggy sweatshirt blew it right out of the water.

Bucky took measured breaths to avoid hyperventilation as the line crept forward bringing Sam and Steve closer.

“Hey, buddy,” Steve singsonged as they were next, “you remember Sam, right?”

Sam wiped a stray line of sweat from the side of his neck. Bucky didn’t whimper but he did nod in acknowledgement.

“What can I get for you today?”

Bucky’s voice took on the autonomous tone he used for longer periods of monotonous work.

Sam smiled, “I’ll have the same as yesterday. It was damn good.”

Bucky nodded and fixed it up in a record pace. Sam grinned as he took the drink and walked away to sit at a chair. Steve hung around the cash register just long enough to watch Bucky glare at him.

Steve frowned, “Where’s my cappuccino?”

Bucky snapped at him, “Coffee is for paying customers, not lecherous traitors.”

Steve snorted.

“I’m paying today, for reals, so get me my drink.”

Bucky prepared the cup without ending his death glare at Steve, much to Steve’s amusement.

“That’ll be seven forty, sir,” Bucky put on a petulant tone. 

Steve smirked and slid over a bill. Bucky tossed him his change grinning when Steve had to bend over and pick it up off the ground. But then Sam had gotten up and helped Steve and Bucky couldn’t handle it.

As Steve put away his money, Sam glanced at Bucky, “What was that about?”

Bucky floundered before Steve chimed in, “Bucky just likes watching me bend over.”

As Bucky was about to dismiss the accusation, Sam shrugged and said “Who wouldn’t?”

Steve and Sam broke out into laughter and walked away, leaving a stunned Bucky in his wake.

His newest unattainable crush was actually attracted to guys. 

The latest revelation was only dampened by the fact that he could only be sure Sam had checked out Steve. There had yet to be any attention paid to Bucky.

Bucky watched his friend and the potential love of his life spend a leisurely morning together laughing and talking over coffee.

It was killing him.

-

Bucky amended himself, he was slowly being killed by the person who knew him best.

Sam was, as Bucky found out, a regular jogging partner of Steve. Steve, in his infinite wisdom and mercy, decided that their daily routine could do with post-workout caffeination..

Bucky, as an expert in revenge, had taken to writing insults and misspellings of Steve’s name as a visual punishment. 

Time had not healed other wounds, he had barely spoken any more to Sam, mostly just asking if he wanted anything different or if the jog went well. 

He had even denied himself his favorite half-frappe since the meet cute. He hadn’t earned one yet.

But winter was due to end and spring held the hope of changes.

-

Spring brought nothing but more pain. Where winter had Sam wrapped in cozy sweatshirts, jackets, and cute sweatpants, spring had given Bucky Sam Wilson in tight t-shirts and short shorts. 

It was the worst-best thing Bucky looked forward to every morning.

When Steve was out of town on a visit to family, Bucky moped through opening up the shop under the impression that no one would drag Sam into the building.

Mid-morning, much like the first time they met, Sam walked in and Bucky felt himself unfold like bloom in the rays of the sun.

“Hey.”

Sam smiled, “Hey there, Buckaroo.”

Bucky chuckled at the nickname. 

“Half-frappe with a splash of syrup coming up.”

Sam nodded and stepped to the side, still following the proper customer protocol despite being the sole person in the dining area.

Bucky was whispering to himself, psyching himself up to make some sort of conversation, any small talk at all when Sam leaned over the counter.

“Do you always talk to yourself?”

Bucky whipped around, arms tense and face nearly colliding with Sam’s. Oh the few centimeters of difference.

“What?”

Sam pulled back but still rested on his forearms on the tiny counter and very much in Bucky’s space.

“You were muttering. Don’t remember the recipe unless you say it or something?”

Bucky shrunk into his work, voice soft with humility, “No, no, just very bad at motivating myself unless it’s out loud.”

Bucky dared to look up where Sam wasn’t laughing but nodding in approval, “Solid plan.”

Bucky smiled and added the lid to the cup, “Your drink, sir.”

Sam grinned and pulled out a bill. 

“No,” Bucky covered Sam’s hand with his, “it’s on me today.”

Sam pulled his hand away, Bucky’s heart doing some fatalistic swoops, to put the bill directly into the tip jar with the piece of paper Steve had left before the trip saying ‘I owe the rude dude $5’ with a drawing of a crab with Bucky’s hair.

“Which brings up my next question - why doesn’t Steve have to pay?”

Bucky motioned to the cup and it’s lovely design, “You know the whole spiel about the founder’s close friend showing her art and thus this place was born?”

Sam nodded.

Bucky motioned to the cup again with emphasis. 

After a few confused blinks, Sam got it, “Steve is the friend?!”

Bucky snorted, “Yeah, unfortunately.”

Sam took a sip while he pulled up a stool to the serving counter like it was his new permanent spot, “So, is that how you got the job?”

Bucky busied himself, trying not to tense up too much, “Sorta. Steve was honored when Carter told him and even though he had already been bestowed the free coffee for life offer, he insisted we help out with the set up. One thing led to another and I’m pretty good with the equipment so I went from Trainee to Trainer to Head Barista.”

He looked up at Sam with a self-deprecating edge to his smile, “Livin’ the dream.”

Sam still kept his rapt listening expression on, “You don’t go to school like Steve?”

Bucky rolled his shoulders, “I did for a while but this place needed me and I wasn’t fit for it.”

Sam shrugged, “To be perfectly honest, just this one sip would be worth it.”

Bucky laughed, not quite a hysterical giggle but close, and moved on to re-arrange some of the fresh baked goods they had on display. 

The conversation lulled from then, Sam moving back to an actual table when the flow of customers picked up. But he did pass back by the counter to shout a quick goodbye before walking out. Bucky spent the better part of the next shift face down on the small futon in the employee lounge going over the morning in his head with both fits of swooning joy and pangs of embarrassment. 

-

Steve got back from his trip and after dumping his bags in his room, sped over to Sam’s place to pick up an assignment he missed for the trip. It was important sure, but he also dropped a few hints about Sam going into the Ol’ Beanery while he was gone and wanted to check if they stuck.

“Hey hey, Sammy.”

Sam grinned as he opened the door and waved Steve in, “How was your trip?”

Steve shrugged and sat on the couch as Sam gathered the assignment papers together in a folder for Steve.

“It was good! Always nice to see the family, get away from the usual daily grind. Yadda, yadda, yadda.”

Sam smirked as he held out the folder, “Glad to be back in your own bed, huh?’

Steve lolled his head back to rest on the couch’s back as he took the folder, “Yes. So much.”

Sam chuckled and sat on the adjacent chair.

“You were definitely missed around these parts.”

Steve sat back up, trying not to seem too pepped up to ask, “Yeah? Bucky seem ok? I mean. You did go by the shop at least once right?”

Sam leveled an unamused look at Steve, “Subtlety is not your thing, dude. Yeah, I stopped by. We talked a bit, though I think I stepped on his toes.”

Steve blew out a huffed breath, “Ok, so total honesty here, it’s not like he’s gonna be any less gone over you. What did you think you did?”

Sam smiled but scrunched up his nose, “It was a good conversation - right up until I brought up school.”

Steve winced, “Yeah, sorry. That’s definitely a touchy subject for him. Did he blow off the question or turn it into a joke?”

“Real answer, actually. I made it a bit lighter with a joke.”

Steve put on a wide smile, “Fantastic! That’s real progress for him. Or he’s just so freaking into you, you can’t piss him off yet.”

Sam laughed a bit.

He waited a second before asking the question that had been burning in his mind for a greater part of a week.

“So, I know it’s hilarious for you to see us flailing around each other but. . . how would one actually get this guy’s number?”

Steve sat on the couch, facing Sam with the most rapturous expression of joy on his face. There may have been a tear forming in his eye.

“Rogers, please. I’m dying here.”

Steve shook his head, clearing his mind, “Well, you know, I have a much better plan for this.”

“Lord help me, what is it?”

-

As the morning rush ebbed, Bucky tried not to focus on Sam and Steve edging closer to the counter in the line. 

Sam, in particular, looked anxious with nervous movements and his eyes darting around. Bucky was already feeling nausea creeping up with his mind running a million miles an hour, under the worry that Bucky’s actions the other day had made Sam reluctant to spend more time around him.

But he swallowed past the lump in his throat and tried to put out ‘normal’ vibes. 

“The usual?”

Steve shook his head, a suspicious grin on his face, “Sam’s paying today so I’m getting the full 20 oz. caramel macchiato, extra syrup.”

Bucky bore a bold gaze, hopefully all the way through Steve’s thick skull, “You’re a menace.”

Steve shrugged and moved out of the way, leaving Sam with Bucky.

“So, are you two celebrating or something?”

Sam shuffled on his feet, “It depends. It hasn’t happened yet, Steve’s just got high expectations.”

Bucky nodded and finished ringing up Sam’s order, “Yeah, he’s always like that. Well, if it counts, I’m sure it’ll turn out alright.” 

“Let’s hope.”

They shared a quick smile between the two of them before Sam handed over money to cover the bill. As Bucky pulled out the change, Sam got out a piece of paper. He wrapped the bills of his change around it and put it all in the tip jar. 

Steve re-joined Sam and they walked out.

Bucky let himself throw out a shouted, “Good luck!”

He didn’t quite get why Steve burst out in laughter but he was glad to see Sam give him an enthusiastic thumbs up. 

He even spent the rest of his shift in a decent mood, surprising the second shift barista Natasha.

“Are you sure you haven’t been replaced by a more upbeat stranger? It would explain so much.”

Bucky was pulling off his apron and pulling on his hoodie, “Ha, nice one.”

Natasha waved an arm to pause his exit, “What about the tip jar? You haven’t taken your half.”

Bucky tried to wave her off, “Keep it all today, I’m feeling generous.”

Natasha was counting up bills when she waved a piece of paper, “Even this phone number for a - Sam Wilson?”

Bucky swerved away from the door and near threw himself over the counter. 

“What what what?”

Natasha held up the slip, Sam’s name and number with a winking face. 

“How.”

Bucky took it in hand and stared at it, almost willing it to dissipate into ether like some sort of mythical being. 

“Is Sam the guy you like but won’t ask out even though he’s come in like, practically waiting for you?”

Bucky double-taked, “Wait, you’ve met him?”

Natasha shrugged, “If we’re both talking about a cute black guy who orders a half-frappe with hazelnut, then yes.”

Bucky near slammed his hands down on the counter, “When did this happen and why wasn’t I told?”

Natasha gave him a warning glare and he backed up.

“It was about a week ago, on Sunday. He came in mid-morning but when I stepped out of the lounge, he looked disappointed. He put his change in the tip jar and hung around but not for very long. Did the same thing the next day, too.”

Bucky smacked his forehead, “He didn’t know. Steve was already away on his trip but he didn’t realize because he doesn’t know which ones are my days off.”

“You realize that you’ve both been total and complete dorks about this, yes?”

Natasha threw him a knowing grin as she turned around when a customer walked up. Bucky finished counting up the tips, the paper sitting like a wrapped present in his pocket, before tucking the money in Natasha’s apron pocket as a thank you and floated on a cloud out the door.

Alone in his room with the number in one hand and cell phone in the other, the carefree feeling faded into a panicky sweat.

He dialed without looking. 

“Buck?”

“Steve,” Bucky pleaded, “tell me what to do.”

There was some distant shuffling and cursing before Steve came back on the line.

“I can’t do that. If you’re not ready for this or if you’re not sure about any of this, I don’t want you pressured into something. Sam wouldn’t want that either.”

Bucky flexed his hand, a habit that soothed his nerves usually, “He wouldn’t?”

Steve sighed, “I’m not gonna tell you exactly how he feels - that’s his flippin’ job. But. I know Sam. I trust him. You like him. That’s what matters.”

Bucky let out a few test deep breaths. 

“Okay, I’m gonna go. Pay for your own shitty coffee tastes next time, asshole.”

“Never,” Steve hung up.

Bucky rolled his head back and forward, shaking his arm muscles out, and typed in the number.

After three rings, there was an answer, “Hello, Sam Wilson here.”

Bucky’s words tumbled together out of his mouth, “Hi Sam, it’s Bucky Barnes.”

He winced, grateful for the distance between them so he could cover his face in silent shame.

“I’m pretty sure I caught all of that - it’s good to hear from you, Bucky.”

Anxiety mostly quelled, Bucky was more prepared for his next response, “Yeah, I’m really glad I found that number in the jar. Tip of the week, so far.”

Sam laughed, “Only so far?”

Bucky smiled to himself, “Yeah, well it’s barely Wednesday.”

Sam kept chuckling, amused by Bucky’s deadpan humor, “Well I guess I’ll have to defend my lead and make sure I make it into the shop every day this week.”

Feeling a bit enthused, Bucky went for the opening with a quick response.

“I work Tuesday through Saturday, just for your information. In case, I don’t know, you came looking for me.”

Sam let out a small groan and Bucky tried to keep his laughter calm and not make it seem like he was trying to be mean. 

“I had hoped she didn’t notice me.”

Bucky jumped to Natasha’s defense on instinct, “She’s too good not to notice the cute guy coming in twice in a row.”

There was a slight pause before Sam asked, “You think I’m cute?”

Bucky felt the beat of his heart against the bones of his ribcage. Something stirred and he couldn’t help but be honest.

“She said cute. I’d use gorgeous, handsome, or maybe lovely if that’d be okay.”

“I, uh,” Sam gulped in a breath of air, “that’s more than okay.”

Bucky laid back on his bed, wide grin on his face.

Sam continued, “I just want to add that I find you attractive as well.”

“Good,” Bucky sat up on the bed, energized by the turn in conversation, “that’s nice to hear.”

Avoiding the incoming lull, Bucky spoke, “This is the part where I actually do what I called you to do and ask you out.”

Sam let out a breath of relief, “Great. Awesome. I’m free this weekend.”

Bucky nearly punched the air, “Cool. Saturday at 5, meet outside the shop?”

“Sounds great. Never have seen you out of the green apron, I might not even recognise you.”

Bucky laughed, “Ha! We both know you’ve thought extensively about that. But, I’ll concede and wear my favorite red shirt, just to be safe.”

Sam countered, “Oh is that how it is?”

Bucky drawled, “Yeah, that’s how it is.”

-

After a decent comedy movie, a much better dinner, and two hours of quality conversation Bucky was walking Sam back to his door. 

“Well, this has been something.”

Bucky leaned a bit in, “Something good?”

Sam shrugged, “Possibly.”

“Maybe,” Bucky adds with a laugh.

Sam started opening his front door before turning back and facing Bucky.

“You know, Steve had asked what drew me into the coffee shop that day.”

Bucky rolled his eyes, “Of course, the nosy bastard. What’d you tell him?”

Sam shrugged a shoulder, “I didn’t say anything. I didn’t know what it was.”

He stepped forward again and pressed his lips to Bucky’s. Short but powerful. He pulled back just enough to speak.

“It was you.”


End file.
